


people fall in love in mysterious ways

by vanessamary



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Weekend AU, as in based off the indie movie Weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanessamary/pseuds/vanessamary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may be mad in inviting Zayn along tonight, prolonging something that was only supposed to last one night but he couldn’t stand the idea of never seeing Zayn again. He couldn’t get him out of his head, is the thing. Not the way he smiled - with his tongue between his teeth - or the way he brushed his fingers over Liam’s skin - as if he’d been there before and knew what spots to touch. It’s impossible to forget, even though Liam knows he just might have to. If he has to deal with Louis’ snarky comments and Harry’s pitying eyes, so be it.</p><p>or a Ziam Weekend AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A giant thank you to Sonja (ao3: veronicahague & tumblr: adifferentkindofson) for giving me the push to write this while i was eating chips on her basement floor and Elaine (tumblr: nicethighsnicereyes) for letting me vent it out and beta-ing/Britpicking where I failed. You both are amazing.

**// people fall in love in mysterious ways //**

 

 

**Saturday**

 

The first thing Liam notices when he wakes up, eyes squinting against the sunlight, is that he's not in his flat. For one, there's no Louis screaming Celine Dion while he's cooking breakfast. And for another, the sheets are a lot softer against his bare skin than his own, and on the bedside table, there's various books stacked on top with titles like "100 Places to See in NYC." Liam rubs a hand over his face, trying to push away the sleep that's clouding his brain, before shifting and sitting up in the bed. He searches the room for his clothes since he was a little preoccupied when they were being removed to remember where they'd dropped.

A clatter in the other room steals his attention, as does the muffled cursing that follows. He laughs quietly to himself and tightens the sheets around his hips as the boy - Zayn, he thinks, the name sticking to his memories from last night - nudges the bedroom door open with his hip, two mugs in hand and only a pair of pants and a singlet on. Liam remembers the myriad of tattoos that climb up Zayn's arms, mostly in black and white with spots of colour, that had caught his attention last night. Remembers biting down on the wings along his clavicles and the block heart on his hip, lips sliding along smooth skin.

"Mornin'," Zayn says, his accent thick with sleep as he raises an arm. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

Their fingers brush as Zayn hands over the tea and it makes Liam blush, cheeks getting warmer as Zayn slides back under the sheets with him. It’s ridiculous, really. They've done dirtier things in this bed than drink tea and Liam's blushing like a schoolboy. He wills himself to act a little cooler than he knows he is and takes a sip of tea.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not the type of bloke who does this a lot?" Zayn asks, the sides of his mouth quirking up around the rim of the mug as he looks at Liam.

That makes Liam blush more, gripping the ceramic in his hands. He dips his head down, and says quietly, "'Cause I'm not?"

Zayn lets out a laugh and his fingers wrap around Liam's wrist, making Liam look up. There's a kind smile on his breathtakingly beautiful face - a fact Liam had not forgotten from last night - and he doesn't feel embarrassed at Zayn's laughter, instead he smiles back wryly and shifts a little closer.

"Why not?"

"Hmmm?" Liam asks, brow furrowed as he swallows down more tea and looks at Zayn.

"Why don't you do one nighters more often?" Zayn asks, his voice curious and soft, no judgement lying in wake as he presses the mug against his lips once more.

Liam leans back against the pillow causing Zayn's fingers to fall from his wrist, and thinks over his answer. He's never really thought about it, to be honest. He's doesn't actively _not_ do them. The first time he had sex was with his first girlfriend, Danielle. After that were a couple of random girls in an attempt to get over her and then he was alone for a while until he came to the terms with the idea that maybe he also wanted to try it out with boys. There were a few boyfriends, scattered over months of loneliness, that Liam clung to because he didn’t really know what else to do with himself but didn’t feel anything more than a small spark of interest. Since then, Liam has only been with a couple of people, dates that went nowhere and dance-floor-make-outs that never really _left_ the dance floor.

"I just...don't?" He replies, shrugging his shoulders. "My friend Harry says that I'm a 'serial monogamist' or whatever. I've just always been with someone so one night stands just don't...happen."

Zayn's quiet but he nods along to what Liam is saying as if he gets it. Liam’s not sure he does though (if the half empty box of condoms were anything to go by). All of a sudden, Zayn jumps out of the bed and rummages through the satchel on the chair by his closet until he takes out a sketchpad and pencil. He saunters back over - and how does he make even _that_ sexy - and sits on the end of the bed before bringing his knees up and resting the sketchpad on them.

He pauses before shuffling over to the iPod dock on the floor beside him, scrolling through a list before tapping on a song. The bubbly opening to The 1975 flows out gently into the small bedroom - _no we're never gunna' quit it, no we're never gunna' quit it no_ \- and Liam quirks an eyebrow in surprise. Zayn rights himself without a word and goes back to his sketch book.

“What are you doing?” Liam asks, a small smile picking up on his lips as he watches Zayn start to draw.

“Sketching.”

“Sketching what?”

Zayn looks up through his eyelashes and flashes Liam a smirk, “You, of course.”

Liam can feel the blush ravage his cheeks before he can cover his face with his hands. He hears Zayn chuckle but doesn’t look, keeping his hands firmly pressed against his face.

“Liam, move your hands.” Zayn murmurs, voice soft and slow.

“No,” Liam mumbles behind his hands. “This is embarrassing.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re drawing me.”

“Precisely why I’d like it if you dropped your hands.”

Liam looks at Zayn through his fingers and sees the other boy pouting at him, legs flat against the bed and arms crossed over his chest. With a huff, he pulls his hands away and stuffs them in the sheets bundled at his lap so Zayn doesn’t see them shake.

“Happy now?” Liam asks, eyes narrowing at the boy.

“Very.” Zayn beams, tongue poking out between his teeth again in glee rather than concentration. It’s rather endearing and Liam can’t help the shy smile he sends back.

“So what do you do, Liam?” Zayns asks as he continues to draw.

“I work at an assembly factory in town. Cars and that.” Liam replies with a shrug, fiddling with the sheets in his lap as he keeps his eyes down. He doesn’t hear the usual snort or taking the piss that people usually do when he tells them his job and wonders, not for the first time, what Zayn is thinking.

“That sounds wicked.” Zayn says and Liam snaps his head up, surprised.

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhhm…”

“Do your parents know you’re gay?” Zayn continues, eyes on the page but his voice holds a lilt of curiosity.

“‘M bisexual, actually,” Liam replies, clearing his throat as he stares down at the rumpled sheets. “And I told them when I was seventeen.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing for weeks, then there was a lot of cryin’ - the good kind - and then life just kinda went back to normal.”

Liam finds it surprising how easily he can talk to Zayn despite the way they met - or maybe because of it - and spends most of the morning lounging on his bed as the boy sketches him and asks him all sorts of questions.

“What did you first think when you saw me?”

“That you were way out of my league.”

“Did you want me when you first saw me?”

“...Yes. Did you want me?”

“No. You’re not really my type. You looked shy, like it was your first time in a gay club and I don’t do virgins. But then you were watching me and...I dunno.”

Zayn pauses for a moment, pencil still against the page as he looks at Liam with his bottom lip between his teeth. Liam squirms a little, wondering if Zayn could sense the desperation for approval in his movements last night. Zayn smirks, as if he knows what he’s thinking, and licks his lips.

“Did you wish my cock were uncut?”

“What? No! I think it’s great just the way it is!”

After that, Liam doesn’t answer anymore of Zayn’s questions and buries his face into the pillow in embarrassment. Zayn laughs and Liam _should_ feel self-conscious but all he feels is a nice, warmness bloom in his chest when he hears Zayn’s laughter echo in the small bedroom. He peeks one eye open to look at Zayn, needing to know what his face looks like when he makes that wonderful sound to find the boy smiling over at him. 

“Can I sketch you some more, Liam?” He asks, accent lilting and calm in the quiet of the room. Liam only nods, forehead scratching against the pillow, before sitting back up. He stretches his arms above his head, revelling in the release of tension in his muscles and the groan of distress from where Zayn is sitting. With a smile, Liam picks up his mug of tea and settles in once more.

They sit in a comfortable silence, Liam still sipping at his tea even though it’s lukewarm and watching Zayn continue to sketch, tongue poking out between his teeth as his brows scrunch together. It’s cute. Really cute. And if he weren’t super self-conscious about the fact that Zayn is drawing him right now, he’d probably tell him that. His skin is prickling from every glance Zayn gives him before looking back down at the paper on his lap, his bright eyes making Liam _very_ _aware_ that he is _very_ _naked_.

"Do you, by any chance, know where my pants are?” Liam blurts out, eyebrow raised as he continues to stare at Zayn.

“Yeah but I’m not telling you.” Zayn replies with a smirk.

“Why?”

“‘Cause then you’ll put them on?” Zayn says, the underlying tone of ‘duh’ not going unheard by Liam.

Liam lets out an unexpected laugh and shakes his head, eyes squinting over at Zayn. He rubs at the back of his neck and hears Zayn groan from across the bed and smirks, knowing that the muscles in his arms always bulge a little when he does this. Resigning to forgo his pants for a moment longer, Liam gets comfortable against the pillows and wonders how a one night stand turned into this. He’d have to thank Louis. Maybe he’d like a fruit basket. After all it was his (and Harry’s) idea to bring him out last night.

Hours later, Liam is fully dressed and fidgeting his hands as Zayn walks him to the door. He’s not sure what to say but is saved from having to figure it out when Zayn smiles at him and asks for his phone, fingers gently pressing into his side. Liam hands his over while Zayn pushes his into Liam’s palm without a word and they stand silently in the hall and type in their numbers. When they’re done, Liam decides to go for it and leans forward, catching Zayn’s lips in a quick kiss before smiling and walking out the door.

He takes a deep breath, ready to leave and never hear from Zayn again (the way these things usually go for Liam) but stops himself. Something in his gut is telling him not to let Zayn be like the others - _and I'd be smart to walk away, but you're quicksand echoing against his rib cage_ \- something is telling him that this is different, that Zayn’s different.

"Uh, Zayn?" Liam says, turning around before the door could close and seeing the other boy standing there, eyebrows raised. "Would you maybe wanna come with me to my mates' gig tonight?"

He looks surprised is the thing, and Liam's not sure what to do because he thought he was being pretty obvious this morning. A nervousness creeps over Liam's skin and he wants to take it back or run away, his cheeks feeling warmer every second Zayn stays silent. But then a small smile picks up on Zayn's lips and he nods.

"Yeah, that sounds cool."

Liam grins, cheeks scrunching up and his eyes squinting, "Great! I'll text you the time and place, then?"

 

\--

 

He’s still got a massive grin on his face by the time he gets to his building, climbing the stairs two at a time as he remembers the warmth of Zayn’s gaze and the softness of his sheets. He’s got his key in the lock when the door swings open and Louis is smiling maniacally at him. Over his shoulder, Harry waves from the kitchen island before resuming eating the bowl of strawberries in his hands.

“Hey Lou.” Liam says wearily, eyebrow raised as he waits for the other boy to move. He doesn’t.

“Where have you _been_ , Li?” He yells, hands wildly expressive as he speaks. “Haz and I have been worried sick, haven’t we Haz?”

He looks over at Harry for confirmation and only gets a soft, fond smile in return. Louis grins goofily back and sensing Louis’ distraction, Liam nudges past him into the flat. He toes off his clunky boots on the mat by the door and slides his thin jacket off before tossing it over the back of the couch. Last week’s episode of _Great British Bake Off_ is playing on the tv and papers are scattered over the coffee table, remnants of Louis’ role in their uni’s production of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ last week.

“No text! No phone call!” Louis shrieks, walking over to Harry and wrapping his arms around the curly-haired boy’s neck but looking over at Liam.

Liam ignores him and walks into the kitchen, bumping his hip against Harry’s as he passes before ducking into the fridge. There’s not much in it at the moment - it’s Louis’ turn to go shopping - so Liam just grabs an apple and a bottle of water before turning, leaning against the counter as he bites into the fruit. Louis and Harry stare at him, as if waiting for him to start the conversation, but Liam just continues to eat his apple and smirk at Louis’ steadily more frustrated face.

“Well?” Louis says, finally cracking. “What happened last night? Last I saw you were headed to the toilets and then I get a text that you’re going home with some bloke, I need _details_ Liam!”

“It’s none of our business, Lou.” Harry says, voice muffled in the fabric of Louis’ sweater.

“Of course it is, Harry.”

“No it’s really not,” Liam says with a grimace but can’t help the grin that follows when Louis stares at him.

Liam debates telling the boys about Zayn, which is odd since he’s never had that problem before. It’s just that Zayn seems _different_. He knows Louis will call him naive for thinking that last night could possibly turn out to be more. But he felt _something_ , a spark or a connection or whatever. And he’s almost sure that Zayn felt it too.

Instead of saying anything, Liam shrugs and blushes before taking a long gulp of water.

“You dirty slut!” Louis crows, releasing Harry to clap his hands together. “How was he?”

Liam blushes even more and mumbles, “Fine.”

“If that mark on your neck is anything to go by, it was more than fine.”

Liam starts to tell Louis to fuck off but he realizes it was Harry who actually said it and leans over to punch him in the arm. Harry lets out a giggle and tucks his face into Louis’ neck. Louis mumbles words of praise into Harry’s skin as Liam looks on, a fond smile tickling his lips as he remembers the months of pining the two went through years ago.

“So,” Louis says, pulling himself away by a fraction and looking back at Liam. “Who is he? What was he like? How big is his dick?”

Liam rolls his eyes. There was a time when Louis’ invasive questions and in-your-face attitude used to make him uncomfortable. Two years later, there’s not much Louis can say that will have Liam reacting past an eye roll or a headlock.

“His name is Zayn. He seems…” Liam pauses, biting on his lip to keep his grin in check as he thinks back over last night and this morning, not sure which he liked more. “Interesting.”

“Good heavens, Harry, our Liam’s got a crush on his one night stand.” Louis says, voice an octave higher and a shit-eating grin over his sharp features.

“I don’t have a _crush_ on him, I’m just interested, is all.”

“You’re not supposed to be interested in a fuck, Li!” Louis giggles, fingers tangling in Harry’s hair and smoothing out the curls. Pecking a kiss onto Harry’s nose, he laughs out, “Only Liam would have a one night stand and come out smitten.”

“Well, if you’re quite finished,” Liam mumbles and turns to head to his room, water and snack in hand.

Before he enters the hall, Liam throws over his shoulder, “Oh and I kinda invited Zayn to the gig tonight.” He chooses to ignore the cackles behind him and makes sure to ignore Louis’ retort about how he’s soft in the head.

He may be mad in inviting Zayn along tonight, prolonging something that was only supposed to last one night but he couldn’t stand the idea of never seeing Zayn again. He couldn’t get him out of his head, is the thing. Not the way he smiled - with his tongue between his teeth - or the way he brushed his fingers over Liam’s skin - as if he’d been there before and knew what spots to touch. It’s impossible to forget, even though Liam knows he just might have to. If he has to deal with Louis’ snarky comments and Harry’s pitying eyes, so be it.

 

\--

 

Liam’s just getting into his readings - his firefighters exam only two weeks away - when he hears familiar, heavy footsteps and the cheer of hellos from the front room. He wants to ignore it, knowing he’s got to go over the numbers review or else he’s never going to understand it, but it’s sort of difficult when you know Niall is around.

Niall became a part of their little group when Harry and Josh were desperately searching for a guitar player after their old one disappeared. He stepped into the audition room - aka Harry’s living room - and smiled brightly, fingers picking at the opening chords of _Wonderwall_ before gently slipping into something by John Mayer. After that, they couldn’t seem to get rid of him nor would they want to.

“Oi, get yer arse out here, Leemo!” Liam hears from the hall, the distinct lilt of Niall’s irish accent hitting his ears.

He crawls out of bed, piling his books on the side table with a forlorn look, and scooping up whatever t-shirt is lying by his bed before slipping it on. When he makes his way down the hall, he can hear the rustle of crisp bags and the tv switching to the tones of a golfing programme.

“Horan, what did I tell ya about watching that dull shite in my flat?” Louis gripes, falling onto the couch beside Niall and grabbing the remote from his lap. They fight over it, Niall poking Louis in the stomach as the other boy tries to bite at him, as Harry just settles into the couch next to them with a smile. Following suit, Liam goes to sit next to Niall and swipes the remote from between them as they continue to fight.

“Hey!” Niall yelps, head stuffed under Louis’ armpit as the older boy has him in a headlock. Liam shakes his head and pulls them away from each other.

“Thanks, Li.”

They spend the next few hours smoking a couple of bowls and munching on whatever snacks Niall brought along with him and sniping over television programmes. When they finally start to get ready, it’s half eight and Harry and Niall might be late to their own gig. Harry is hopping up and down in the living room, trying to stuff his feet into his lucky brown Chelsea boots while Louis and Niall continue to lounge on the couch, crumbs on their trackie bottoms and beer slicking their lips.

Meanwhile, Liam is in his room frantically trying on every piece of clothing he owns before settling on one of Louis’ light gray scoop-necked tees and Liam’s favourite pair of dark gray jeans with the rips in the knees. He sprays a bit of cologne before styling his hair into a neat coif before standing in front of the mirror. It’s alright, he thinks. A bit overdone for The Rose and King’s usual crowd but Liam’s kind of wants to look his best tonight.

When he walks out into the main room, Niall and Louis finally up and dressed to a somewhat presentable state (Niall having brought over a pair of skinny jeans from his flat), his mates let out the most obnoxious whistles and cat calls.

“Fuck off,” he groans out, searching the room for his leather jacket and finding it on the chair by the dvd rack, stuffed under Louis’ mounds of textbooks.

“Liam’s trying to look good for his date tonight, boys.” Louis mock-whispers, ignoring Liam when he flips up two fingers and slips on his jacket. The other boys laugh, Niall’s a careening chuckle as Harry tucks a giggle into the scruff on Louis’ cheek. Liam can feel his cheeks staining pink because yeah, he is trying to look good for Zayn because maybe - maybe if he does, Zayn will want him to stick around a little longer this time.

With the gig starting in twenty minutes and the pub just down the road, the boys start to head out knowing Josh must be setting up his drum kit and cursing them to the high heavens. As they’re heading out the door, arms around each other and laughter on their lips, Louis cranes neck to look at Niall and smirks.

“So, Nialler, we gonna talk about how you’re arse over tit about our Josh?"

 

\--

 

 _Stupid_. Liam kicks out at pebble on the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets and teeth digging into his bottom lip. _Do you really think he's going to show up?_

There’s only a few people outside as Liam waits for Zayn by the doors, their drinks in hand and cigarettes between their fingers. He bites on his lip to stop himself from bumming one off the tipsy girls in the corner, not wanting to smell like smoke when Zayn arrives. _If_ he arrives. There’s a massive chance that Liam may be stuck standing here like an idiot, waiting for a boy he’s only just met.

“Hey.”

Liam spins around, teeth digging harder into his lip as he takes in the boy in front of him. Dark jeans, clunky combat boots, and a burgundy jumper over his lithe frame as he chucks a cigarette into the gutter. Zayn smiles at him with his lips tilting up shyly and Liam’s never wanted to kiss him more. Instead, he stumbles a couple of steps closer and mumbles out, “Hi.”

The minute he’s close enough, Zayn slips his hands underneath his leather jacket to hold onto Liam’s waist and bring himself closer. He hears Zayn mumble out some sort of small talk but all Liam can focus on his the rough glide of his stubble against his cheek as he falls forward to the melody of _thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe it's all part of a plan_. They settle into a sort of hug outside the pub and Liam knows if his mates saw him, he’d never hear the end of it but it just kind of feels right. It’s not until they hear someone say that the band is about to go on that Liam steps away.

“We should go in, Lou’s saving us a table.”

“Are you sure you want me to meet your mates?” Zayn asks, falling into step beside Liam as they walk to the doors, teeth gnawing at his lip.

"Of course," Liam replies, eyes flicking over to Zayn to gauge his behaviour. The other boy doesn't shift under his gaze, instead straightening his shoulders and schooling his face into something less scared.

Harry is just walking across the stage when Liam and Zayn make their way to the bar, Zayn’s fingers pressing into his sides and his breath on the back of his neck. He orders them both a pint, his fingers finding Zayn’s wrist and wrapping around it to drag him over to the table where Louis is bouncing on his heels. He grins over his shoulder to try and put Zayn’s mind at ease, the pads of his fingertips digging into his pulse point.

Harry’s just making the introductions - as if every person in this place doesn’t already know who they are - when Louis grins sharply over at Zayn and stretches his arm out for a handshake, “’m Louis.”

“Zayn.”

Liam watches Zayn for any signs of discomfort, fingers falling loose from the soft skin of Zayn’s wrist as he shakes Louis’ hand and takes a sip of beer. He knocks back a generous amount of his own pint, licking at his lips to get rid of the excess, and moves in close along Zayn’s side as Josh counts out a 1,2,3 before the band starts to play. Zayn tips his head back a little to smile at Liam and he relaxes a little at the sight of that crooked grin before returning it with one of his own.

“I finally get it, Payno.” Louis yells over the music, a shark-like grin on his lips as Liam snaps his gaze to him instead of the way Zayn leans into his touch.

“Get what?”

“Why you’re so hung up on the bloke. He looks like that.”

Liam flushes red and steps back from Zayn, hoping his blush can’t be seen under the dim lighting of the pub. Louis barks out a laugh and Liam scrunches his eyes shut in embarrassment, hoping Zayn didn’t hear him over the music. When he feels the now-familiar press of Zayn’s fingers along his ribs, Liam knows that he did and lets out a groan.

“Don’t listen to a word Louis says,” Liam crows, loud enough for Louis to hear. “He’s stark raving mad.”

Zayn laughs and as much as Liam loves his mates and their music, he wishes Harry would stop singing so he can imprint the sound of that laugh in his mind. His eyes shine, though, Liam notices as he swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, watching Zayn continue to giggle and lean into him.

He doesn't want to look away but he can feel Louis' stare against the side of his face and sends a couple of fingers in his direction as he glares at his best mate. Liam gets a smirk in return.

"Your mates are alright!" Zayn yells, a shy smile on his face as he watches Harry do his mid-chorus usual crotch grab. He bobs his head along to the music, sipping on his beer every few minutes and even though Liam knows it's a bit creepy to keep staring at Zayn the whole show, he can't help glancing over at him every so often. It's just that this whole night feels a bit too good to be true. Someone as fit as Zayn agreeing on a date with someone like him? Fuck off.

And yet...

Zayn turns his head a little and catches him staring, smiling widely with his tongue pressing against the backs of his teeth before looking back out at the stage. Swallowing thickly, Liam throws back the rest of his pint and tells Louis and Zayn that he's headed to the bar for another.

Harry's just announcing their set break, wiping a hand across his sweat-slicked brow with a proud, dimpled smile that makes a couple of girls by the bar giggle into their glasses. Liam smiles into his shoulder as he leans on the bar, waiting for the bartender to get close enough for Liam to catch his attention. He quickly looks over his shoulder back at the table, watching Zayn introduce himself to Harry, Niall, and Josh with a fist bump and a smile.

“What can I get ya?”

He whips his head around and smiles politely at the guy behind the bar, ordering a round of pints for the table quickly. While waiting, he tries not to turn around and watch how Zayn is getting on with his mates, tries not to worry if he’s nervous or if Louis is going to say something embarrassing again. It’s not long before he’s handed a tray of drinks - “Put these on Harry’s tab, will ya?” - and heading back over to the table, biting down on his bottom lip as he awaits the disaster of Hurricane Louis.

Hours later, when the crowd has thickened and the band finished playing, Liam’s leaving the loo and looking around for the gang. Harry and Louis are too many drinks in to stop themselves from committing an act of public indecency in the booth, hands dipping underneath fabric. With a wrinkled nose, he avoids that side of the pub and looks around for Zayn or Niall, a slight panic in his chest at the thought of Zayn ducking out without telling him.

He finally spots them a little way away, swaying to whatever remixed Rizzle Kick tune is blaring out from the speakers. Liam grins, eyes scrunching as Niall swoops an arm around Zayn’s shoulders and leans in close to his ear. With a pint of beer in hand and his Ray-Ban knock-offs on - despite it being dark already and they’re _indoors_ \- Niall shouts something that makes Zayn crinkly smile and Liam’s stomach swoop. Niall waves his beer holding hand everywhere and tells Zayn something that makes his grin widen and look around the crowd, his eyes falling on Liam and his smile widening.

His chest hurts a little looking at this boy who’s fallen into his life so seamlessly, catching Liam’s interest with every laugh - _your heart is glowing and I'm crashing into you_  - and making it so difficult to think clearly. Instead of thinking about it, Liam works his way towards the two, shouting out a hello amidst the bass line and wanting to sink his fingers into the softness of Zayn’s hair as it slowly falls out of its quiff and kiss him senseless.

Zayn smirks at him as if he knows just what Liam’s thinking, though he keeps his attention on Niall as the blonde continues his story of getting lost in Galway with a girl.

“And I swear, Zayn, mate, she had the most beautiful blue eyes,” Liam hears as he reaches the pair, almost getting knocked out by Niall’s beer glass as he does. When he sees Liam, he crows out his name, letting go of Zayn and jumping in his arms instead, not caring that half his pint just hit the dirty, pub floor.

“Niall, mate, are you confusing your life with a folk song again?” Liam asks, smiling over at Zayn before looking back at a very drunk Niall.

Niall looks confused for a second before a wild sort of clarity takes over his inebriated face and he pushes Liam’s shoulder with a loud bark of laughter - “You’re right, Leemo! What am I like?”. He drags Zayn back under the crook of his arm, squeezing himself between the two boys as if he’s about to tell them a secret. He tips his head back, swaying to the new Ella Eyre tune and dragging Zayn and Liam along. Liam laughs easily, the alcohol in his veins and the brightness of Niall making him feel as light as a feather.

“Hey, mate, you mind if I borrow this one for a sec?” Liam asks, nodding over at Zayn with a smile. He doesn’t look over at the dark-haired boy and presses in close to Niall, laughing against his cheek. He couldn’t look Niall in the eye any longer or he’d see something Liam isn’t ready to admit to himself just yet about this new thing with Zayn.

“Yeah, off with ya!” Niall says while pushing away from them, downing whatever is left in his glass that hasn’t splashed all over the place. He sends a cheeky grin at Liam, “I’ve gotta pull a certain drummer boy anyways. Wish me luck!”

And then he was gone.

The song switches over to a over-remixed FKA Twigs tune that Liam thinks he remembers from that soft, awkward morning in Zayn’s flat amongst the soiled sheets and freshly brewed tea - _feel your body closin', I can rip it open, suck me up, I'm healin' for the shit you're dealin'_. He steps a little closer, the bass line thumping under his fingers as he slides his hand along Zayn’s stomach to grasp his waist and slowly bring him flush against him.

“Li?” Zayn starts, lips wrapping around the nickname as if he’s been saying it for years instead of hours. He lifts an eyebrow in question and Liam kisses him, lips hard against Zayn’s as he tries to answer the unsaid question. When they part, Liam’s skin feels hot and Zayn’s mouth is slightly swollen and suddenly this pub is the last place he wants to be.

“Wanna come back to mine?”

 

\--

 

The walk back to Liam’s is silent and comfortable, their hands swinging by their sides as their blood pumps wildly in their veins. Liam can’t stop smiling. He watches Zayn from the corner of his eye and bites down on his bottom lip, trying not to lean over and kiss him even though that’s all he’s wanted to do tonight. The music is still buzzing through him and he wants to do _something_ to get rid of the nervousness in his joints. He sees Zayn look over at him and tries to hide his smile but fails.

“What?” He asks Zayn, turning his head to look at him with a grin.

“Nothin’.” Zayn murmurs, knocking his shoulder with Liam’s but not saying anything more.

Liam wonders if he should go for it. If he should just grab Zayn and press him into the wall of the closed down pawn shop a step away and slide his mouth over his. It’d be easy, so easy. But he’s unsure and just because he’s walking Liam home doesn’t mean he wants to do that again.

“What’s on your mind, Leeyum?” Zayn drawls, lighting up a cigarette and inhaling after he speaks.

He blushes, wondering what to say when he realizes that they’ve reached his building. Zayn follows him inside and into the lift and then down the hall to his front door. He leans against the door jamb and Liam can’t look away from the fan of his eyelashes along his cheekbones. Liam almost drops his keys while opening his door, too distracted by Zayn’s fingers digging into the flesh of his waist in an urgency that’s all too familiar to Liam.

The door is barely shut behind them when Zayn crushes his mouth to Liam’s. He kisses back just as hard, tongue already sliding along Zayn’s and a groan slipping out from his mouth and between their lips. The keys drop from his fingers and Liam reaches up to twist his fingers in the strands of Zayn’s semi-long hair, the other wrapping around Zayn’s waist and pulling him close.

“Take me to your bed, Leeyum.” Zayn says, mouth open and panting against his.

Tearing himself away, Liam winds his fingers around Zayn’s wrist and slowly makes his way through the flat and down the hall to his room. He kicks away the clothes on the floor and tries not to think about how messy it’ll look in the morning - and definitely doesn’t think about whether Zayn will even stay until morning - as he spins around to face Zayn.

“Light on or off?” He whispers, not wanting to break the steady hum of almost-silence of heavy breathing and quiet moans that they’ve delved into.

Zayn pushes Liam back onto his bed, the mattress bouncing a bit under his weight, and leans down to the bedside table to switch on the lamp. As the room lights up with a dim, golden glow and Liam finally regulates his breathing, Zayn slowly takes off his sweater. He’s smiling down at Liam as if he knows just how turned on he is, like he can see the way his cock twitches in his jeans as every sliver of skin gets exposed.

“C’mere,” Liam says, sitting up and reaching out for Zayn who comes easily, legs bracketing Liam’s hips and falling into his lap.

He knows this is far too intimate for two people who’ve just met but Liam doesn’t care. It feels amazing, sliding his hands up Zayn’s side and watching him shiver above him. His hand grips the back of Zayn’s neck and he hauls him forward, hips rocking against each other, for a wet kiss. There’s a buzz in his head that might be an echo of the live music or it might just be the way Zayn drapes his arms over Liam’s shoulders and falls into the kiss like they have all the time in the world.

“‘M gonna ride you, Leeyum.” Zayn whispers into the curve of his neck, biting on the skin he finds there. Liam’s hips rock up of their own volition and he throws his head back from the sensation of his clothed cock brushing against Zayn’s.

Making quick work of the rest of their clothes and settling onto the bed again, lube and condom by the pillows, Zayn goes to straddle him but Liam pushes him back against the sheets. He wonders if Zayn is thinking about how his sheets feel so much softer but that thought is quickly forgotten when Zayn leans up and kisses him. He remembers what he wants to do, pressing Zayn back into the mattress and ignoring the groan the other boy lets out.

“You can ride me later,” Liam huffs out with a laugh, finding Zayn’s impatience adorable even though that’s not the right emotion for the setting. He shifts Zayn a little until they can grind against each other easily, revelling in the noises Zayn makes and kissing up his neck to his ear and saying, “Right now, I kinda wanna blow you.”

There's a stutter in Zayn's movements and it makes Liam preen knowing he made that happen.

"Ugh, Liam you can't just say shit like that!" Zayn groans.

"Why not?" He pouts a little until Zayn swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, making him open his mouth to Zayn's. He doesn't get an answer and doesn't expect one, really, as he moves down Zayn's body pressing a kiss to the inked heart on his hip.

He doesn't tease Zayn, only licking him once before taking the head of his cock in his mouth. Zayn lets out a breathy moan above him and Liam doesn't waste any time, sliding further down and sucking gently. He can hear Louis' voice in the back of his head telling him to mind his teeth and "swallow afterwards, nobody likes a spitter, Liam" from that terrifying day when he told his best mate that he may fancy boys too only to have Louis spout blowjob tips.

One of Zayn's hands slides through his hair, messing up the product as he grips onto the short strands when Liam sucks harder. Reaching up with one hand to fondle Zayn's balls, Liam moans because Zayn is pulling his hair even harder and there's the bitter taste of precome on his tongue. He speeds up and tugs gently on Zayn's balls, knowing the boy likes it because he's shifting his hips to make Liam take him deeper.

His jaw is starting to ache but he doesn't want to stop, never wants to stop. It's too much and Liam has to take the hand away from Zayn's balls to slide it over his cock, dry and harsh and not enough.

"Leeyum, I'm gonna -- " Zayn's whispers brokenly, hand relaxing on his hair and smoothing is back off his forehead. His hips hiccup a bit, not so much pushing forward as they are trying to stay still as Liam continues to suck him, mouth only around the head as his hand strokes the rest. He can feel it coming from the way Zayn's body goes taut and his hands fist the sheets instead of Liam's hair, and Zayn comes with a shout as if surprised by his orgasm.

Liam swallows it down greedily, hand on his dick as he sucks Zayn through his orgasm until the boy is too sensitive and pushing Liam away before bringing him back up and kissing him square on the mouth. It's not long before Zayn is sliding the condom on and slicking Liam up, legs straddling him as he whispers filthy promises against his skin.

They go slow, is the thing. Slower than the first two rounds when they barely knew each other's names, slower than the kisses shared in the morning after, and slower than the dance they're doing around each other not wanting to be the first to leave or ask the other to stay. Zayn is tight around him and he holds him close as he rocks up into him, keeping it slow and thorough and deep. There's soft moans and hitched laughter as they find a steady rhythm.

Zayn chants Liam's name, pressing bite marks into his skin where no one can see until Liam comes deep inside him with a groan. When Zayn comes it's with a bite to Liam's shoulder and a couple of strokes from Liam's hand, deft fingers working along his skin.

After, when the condom is in the bin and he’s cleaned them both off with a wet flannel, Liam tucks his cheek against the wings inked on Zayn's clavicles and wonders if he's made a big mistake and just doesn't know it yet. He tries to catch his breath against Zayn’s warm, sweat-slicked skin - _you know its gonna make it that much better when we can say goodnight and stay together_ \- and foolishly wishes he could stay here forever.

"Sweet dreams, Li." Zayn whispers into the dark, the lamp turned off only minutes before.

Somehow, right now, Liam can't seem to care if it’s a mistake or not.

 

 

 

**Sunday**

 

In the morning, when the light is filtering into the living room and the kettle pops, Liam is leaning against the wall by the door watching Zayn slip on his ankle boots. Zayn’s foot catches and he hops around the small hallway trying to put on his other shoe, his hand flailing out and catching on Liam’s who had reached out to grab him.

With a laugh, Zayn rights himself but doesn’t let go of Liam’s hand and Liam makes a quick decision to entwine their fingers and tug him close. Zayn goes willingly but there’s a tension in his gaze that makes Liam worry, so instead he ducks down and kisses him softly.

They spent the early morning hours before the sun was fully up tangled in Liam’s bed sheets and brushing kisses along heated skin. Liam took advantage of Louis staying over at Harry’s, keeping the dirty promises whispered to Zayn the night before and opening up the boy slowly before sliding into Zayn. The speckles of light that filtered through the curtains slid along Zayn’s darker skin as he grinded on top of him, chasing the breath out of Liam’s lungs. He still hasn’t managed to catch it.

“Right, okay,” Zayn murmurs against his lips. “I better go.”

Liam pouts when he pulls away but lets him go, pulling open the door and hanging off of it. Zayn grins at him, and it looks a bit shaky but Liam pushes that thought away, wanting to ask Zayn when he’ll see him again but not wanting to seem needy. But he doesn’t say anything and Zayn pecks his lips before leaving the flat.

Letting out a harsh breath, Liam knocks his head back against the wall and swings the door shut. He runs over last night in his mind, wondering if he read it wrong, if Zayn was only humoring him the whole time, if he regrets the second time they slept together, if --

There’s a knock on his door and Liam opens it quickly, his nerves spiking when he sees Zayn on the other side. He’s nervous, that much is obvious. Though Liam doesn’t know why. Both his hands are flat against the door jambs and he’s hanging his head, not looking Liam in the eye instead shifting his gaze from the carpet to down the hall.

“Zayn?” Liam says, heart fluttering as he watches the other boy despite his confusion. “What -- why -- ”

“I’ve got to tell you something.”

In the history of the bloody world, never have those words ever meant something positive coming from boys as wonderful as Zayn. His stomach feels like ice and he honestly wants to just slam the door shut so he doesn’t have to hear it.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” Zayn blurts out, looking up and finally catching Liam’s eye. Liam smiles nervously back, not understanding why Zayn looks so stressed out, and quirks his lips up in a hopeful smile.

“Oh like on holiday?”

“No, for a year, actually.” Zayn explains, taking his arms off the door and stuffing them in the pockets of his jeans.

Liam feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach. He knows it must show on his face because Zayn steps forward and places his hands on Liam’s chest, patting down the wrinkled material of his Captain America t-shirt. He stares at the emblem on his chest and presses his fingers into it as he continues, “I...I got into an art course, in New York, and I…I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Okay. He can do this, he can say goodbye to Zayn. He can watch him walk away and not feel like his whole world is falling apart. Especially since he’s only known him for less than 48 hours. C’mon Liam, get it together. He clears his throat and looks at the top of Zayn’s head - since he has yet to look up from Liam’s chest.

“Oh. Have a good...trip, I guess?” He stutters out, trying to smile and hoping he manages because Zayn is looking at him now. “I mean, an art course, Zayn. That’s amazing, you’re gonna smash it, I know you will.”

Zayn looks distressed, eyes wide and teeth biting his bottom lip raw. He nods, arms sliding down to his sides before he steps back into the hall. He roughly runs his hands into his hair until it’s sticking up at all angles and making his manic expression even more intense. Liam wants to smooth the wrinkles out of his brow but he’s not sure if he’s still allowed to touch. Zayn is leaving. For a year.

“I just...I just needed you to know, I felt that it was important that you know.”

“Okay. I appreciate it, Zayn.” Liam replies, sincere despite the hollow feeling in his chest and the way Zayn is looking at him. “You’re gonna do great in America.”

“Right. Right.”

Before he knows what’s happening Zayn kisses him frantically, hands against his cheeks and lips hard against his own. Liam barely has time to kiss back before Zayn leaves, grabbing the door and almost closing it behind him, the latch snapping back and hovering open slightly. At a loss for what to do next, Liam slumps against the wall and rubs a hand over his face. The quiet in the flat is overwhelming and he almost wishes Louis hadn’t gone to Harry’s last night, his presence always adding life to every nook and cranny.

He’s happy for Zayn, he really is. From what he’d been shown of his sketchbook, Liam knows how talented Zayn is and that he’s going to do wonderful things in New York. But he just can’t get rid of this sinking feeling inside of him, like he’s missing out on something important. It doesn’t make sense, not really. He’s practically still a stranger, Zayn. And yet, Liam doesn’t want him to go. He wants him to stick around, see where this goes; see if he finds Liam’s jokes funny or if he enjoys Marvel movies as much as he told Liam yesterday morning or if Liam can find other places to kiss him that will make that small smile appear on his face.

He’s about to slump over to the couch and wrap himself in a blanket of self-pity but then the door swings open again, still open from when Zayn left and there he is once more. He’s popped the hood on his sweater up over his hair but Liam can still see the intensity in his gaze as he flicks his gaze up at Liam’s face.

“Look, a few of my mates have planned this thing tonight as -- as like a going away party thing and I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna come? You can invite the lads if you’d like, even. Just say you’ll come, yeah?”

Liam nods dumbly, not trusting himself to speak in case he does something crazy like ask Zayn not to leave tomorrow. A relieved look flashes over Zayn’s face and Liam watches as he clenches his hands by his side, like he wants to touch Liam as much Liam wants to touch him.

“Ace. Okay, good.” Zayn chokes out, teetering forward to kiss the corner of Liam’s mouth and finally stumbling through the door, slamming it behind him with finality. And then it’s quiet. There’s the dull hum of the refrigerator and the screams from children playing outside spilling in from the living room window, but the silence swallows him in.

Liam stumbles down the hall with his arms wrapped around his middle, fingers pressing into his waist like Zayn does whenever he wants to get closer. The thought almost claws a sob from his throat but he swallows it down, thumb and forefinger pinching at the skin of his side until the tears stop prickling his eyes. He’s just a boy. A beautiful, funny, interested-in-Liam boy who is leaving tomorrow. Liam walks over to the window, wanting to shut it and tune out the signs of life below that flow into his little flat, but he stops when he sees a familiar figure walking away from the building. 

He doesn’t think about how that might be the last time he ever sees Zayn, nor does he move away from the window.

 

\--

 

“You have to go, Liam!”

“No, Lou, I actually don’t.”

The two of them are sprawled on the couch, the TV switched onto a re-run of some American sitcom on E4, while Harry bangs about in the kitchen making some sort of meal from the remnants in their cupboards. Most days Liam can handle Louis and his incessant pestering but he’s really not in the mood for it today.

“He’s _leaving_ , Li.” Louis squeaks out, arms flailing out as he looks at Liam as if he just told him that fairies wash his hair at night.

“Something I’m quite aware of, thanks.”

“Don’t you wanna say goodbye? One last shag and a cuddle before he jets off to grander lands? You know he’d really want you there, that lad is smitten, I tell ya.”

Liam doesn’t answer, only glares at Louis before turning back to the television. He feels the gentle press of fingers on his shoulder and almost closes his eyes as he recalls Zayn’s touch only hours before.

“Just...leave it, Lou.” He whispers, voice catching as he speaks. He bites his lip and stares down at his fingernails in an attempt at nonchalant.

Louis doesn’t say anything else, getting up off the couch and heading into the kitchen bellowing Harry’s name and asking what’s for dinner. With a sigh, Liam sinks into the couch, tipping his head back against the cushions. He just _can’t_. Going tonight would be the worst idea Liam’s ever had - including hooking up with the most fit boy he’s ever seen for the better part of a weekend.

He gives up thinking about it and heads to his bedroom, ignoring Harry calling out that he’s ordering Chinese takeaway and slamming the door shut behind him. To beg off the not-so-quiet murmurings of Harry and Louis discussing his love life, Liam quickly slips in his earphones and blasts the new Kanye record. Now’s a good a time as any to get a head start on his exam review, the textbook spread out on his lap.

He’s barely a page in when his phone vibrates in the pocket of his trackies. Taking it out, he sees an alert for a text message from Zayn and squeezes his eyes shut. This boy isn’t making it easy. Sliding it open, Liam glances at the screen warily. 

 _Can’t wait to see you tonight. xx_  

He pushes out a harsh breath as he reads it, his stomach twisting as he pictures Zayn’s look of disappointment when he doesn’t show. Liam swallows thickly and shakes his head. It’s for the best. Zayn will get over it, over _him_ , easily enough. He’s nothing special after all, he’s not got any great plans to travel the world or learn a bunch of languages. Liam keeps himself to himself. He’ll take his exam in two weeks, start at firehouse down the road with old mates of his dad’s and Zayn will go on to do wonderful things. He’s sure of it. 

_I miss your smile._

_Is that too cheesy?_  

His stomach flutters as he reads the messages, teeth biting down on a grin before it falls quickly as he remembers that this wonderfully corny boy is leaving tomorrow. He wants to reply, wants to tell Zayn that he loves it when he says cheesy things and that he misses him too. Before he can text back - or decide not to text back, which would be the smart thing to do - there’s another alert from his phone.  

_Please come tonight. I know this whole situation is totally mad but I really want to see you again before I go. xx_

 

 

\--

 

The party’s in full swing by the time he and the lads get there, a mix of body paint and strobe lights turning the small club into a kaleidoscope of colours. Liam doesn’t see Zayn anywhere so he follows the gang up to the bar and orders himself a coke, since he’s driving tonight. Once he’s got a glass in hand, he leans against the bar and tries to act natural. Harry and Louis have already made their way into the fray, Louis’ sharp cheekbones decorated with pink and yellow stripes.

Liam looks over as Niall and Josh simultaneously down their shots, the blonde tucked into Josh’s side with a sticky sweet smile on his lips and a laugh in his throat. The music is different from the other night, less Katy Perry, more Drake and A$AP Rocky and Liam finds comfort in that at least despite the anxiety buzzing under his skin.

“Y’alright on yer own for a bit, Leemo?” Niall asks, leaning down the bar to yell up into his ear. “Josh and I are gonna have a cheeky snog in the gents.”

He watches as Niall downs another shot and sends Liam a smirk, before lacing his fingers in Josh’s and tugging him into the crowd. He sips at his coke quietly, perusing the crowd while trying to push down the social anxiety clawing at his gut in a room full of strangers. He finally spots Zayn over the rim of his glass, smiling wide as that now familiar quiff circles the crowd. He looks different tonight, younger, which might have to do with the lack of facial hair. He’s wearing a dark red scoop neck tee and his usual black skinny jeans, but he looks amazing to Liam. 

Liam watches as Zayn goes from one group of people to another, smiling and sharing stories, and as he watches him, Liam is struck with his own awkwardness. He doesn’t know why he’s there; he doesn’t know Zayn, not really. And yeah, there’s that feeling in his gut that’s telling him not to give up on this but the more he thinks about it the more uncomfortable he feels.

And when Zayn’s friends come up to him and ask him how he knows Zayn, he’s stuck. Does he tell them the truth? Does he mention that he’s slept in Zayn’s arms the past two nights or that he knows how determined he looks when he draws? Should Liam even bother to make conversation with people he’ll never see again after tonight? 

It’s about a half hour later and Liam finds himself at a booth alone with a glass of watered down coke, his friends still off doing their thing, when Zayn slides into the seat beside him. There’s a smooth grin on his lips from the many shots slid his way and he looks at Liam with hooded eyes - _from nervous touch and getting drunk, to staying up and waking up with you_ \- before he reaches across the table and nudges Liam’s hand with his. 

“Y’alright?” 

He smiles at Zayn, finding the tipsy tilt to his head adorable. With a quick decision to push away all the sad thoughts of tomorrow, Liam slides out of his seat and steps over to Zayn’s side. He brushes a hand over the fading paint over the high arch of Zayn’s cheekbones, the pinks and yellows sliding across sweat-damp skin. Their fingers entwine almost the second he’s close enough to touch and it makes his chest hurt just a little. Liam tugs on his hand and drags him out of the seat, Zayn groaning as he does. 

“What’re you doin’?” He asks with a smile. 

Liam is not a good dancer. Ask anyone and they’ll burst out laughing at the thought. But right now, as the playlist switches to a remixed version of Drunk In Love, all he wants to do is dance with Zayn. The bass is heavier than the original and the crowd of Zayn’s friends seems to thicken as they join them. Liam feels Zayn’s fingers digging into his side as he leads them further in, his face on fire at the idea of dancing in front of Zayn, dancing _with_ Zayn. 

He turns around to face Zayn, biting his lip and willing the dark lights of the club to hide most of his embarrassment. They don’t really say anything, Zayn probably picking up on Liam’s hesitence and giving him time to adjust. It’s a song meant for grinding, meant for the rub of skin and hips, but Liam just pulls him close, one hand on Zayn’s waist while he keeps the other wrapped in Zayn’s hand. 

Zayn grips his hand and uses his other to bring Liam’s face close to his so he can slant their mouths together. He moans in surprise before licking his way into Zayn’s mouth, tasting the harshness of alcohol on his tongue. Zayn cups the side of Liam’s neck, thumb pressing against his cheek as he presses closer, the music playing on even though they’ve forgotten to dance. 

They kiss a few moments more before Zayn pulls back a little, nipping at Liam’s bottom lip. He breathes harshly from his nose, trying to calm the thrumming in his veins that’s become so familiar whenever he kisses Zayn. They stay close, Zayn pressing random kisses up along Liam’s jaw. They’re quiet for a while, just barely moving to the music as everyone celebrates around them. 

“I know it sucks, yeah?” Zayn says, lips brushing against his ear as he speaks. “But I want our last night to be the best we’ll ever have.” 

Liam leans back a little to look Zayn in the eye and press a soft kiss to his lips, digging his fingers into the small of Zayn’s back before saying, “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

Zayn gets pulled away a bit after the song ends, something about a cake or a gift, and Liam can’t handle the crowd of strangers whose eyes don’t seem to leave him so he ducks into the loos. He immediately wishes he hadn’t when he hears the unfortunately familiar sounds of Louis and Harry getting off in the handicap stall. His friends are the worst. 

Outside is much better, the cool air doing wonders for his overheated skin and he almost shivers in his black henley. There’s an alcove of sorts by the front entrance where multiple cigarette butts are strewn on the ground and a small wooden table is set up. Liam sits on the table top, his boots clunking down on the bench seat and laughs out into the night air. 

He’s just glad he left the loos before he heard more than Harry groaning out Louis’ name and was scarred for life. The emergency cig he keeps tucked in his wallet is thankfully not crushed to bits and completely smokeable but without a lighter at hand, Liam just ends up staring at it while rolling it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Need a light?” 

Liam lifts his head to see Zayn smiling at him tentatively and holding out his lighter. He stares down at the lighter dumbly, eyes blinking slowly before returning to the cigarette in his hand. 

“Dunno, ‘m not sure if I want it.” Liam says, brow furrowed. The cigarette is snatched from his fingertips and Liam lets out an indignant noise when Zayn tosses it into the bushes behind him before leaning forward and swallowing any of Liam’s further complaints in a kiss. 

It’s odd kissing Zayn without the familiar scratch of stubble over his mouth, but he drowns in it just the same. Needy, uncontrollable noises slipping out when Zayn moves down his neck, pushing forward with his hands on Liam’s shoulders and practically climbing onto his lap. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Leeyum.” He whispers harshly against his cheek, his words almost causing Liam to buck them both off the table. 

He nods his head frantically, already pushing them into an upright position as he grips Zayn’s waist. “What about all your mates?”

“I said my goodbyes before I came out here.”

Liam presses a hard kiss to Zayn’s lips and laughs into his mouth at the absurdity of this whole weekend, before digging into his pocket for his phone. Louis is going to kill him. The phone rings four times before he finally gets a disgruntled Louis barking into the phone. He wants to laugh but Zayn is still kissing his neck and it’s making it considerably harder to talk when he does.

“I’m - uh - I need to leave, like now,” His breath hitches slightly when Zayn nips at his collarbone and he almost forgets to continue. “So if you guys want a - ah - a ride back now’s your chance.”

“Liam Payne are getting off while ringing me?”

He bursts out into a slightly hysterical laughter, biting down on his lips as Louis grumbles down the phone. There’s rustling on the other end and Liam sinks into Zayn’s touch, lips against the birthmark on his neck. He distantly hears Louis saying that they’ll catch a cab home before he’s pocketing his phone and dragging Zayn to his car, fingers squeezing around Zayn’s.

 

\--

 

They stumble into Zayn’s flat, his tongue still delving into Zayn’s mouth as he swings the door shut behind them and moves them further inside. He doesn’t know how far they are from the bedroom, aching to undress Zayn and spread him out on the bedsheets, take him apart with his fingers and maybe a bit of tongue. Before he can push Zayn towards the hall, he pushes Liam back against the wall and kisses him deeply, sinking to his knees before Liam can even kiss back.

The flat is quiet, the only light filtering in from the windows on the other side of the room and illuminating half of Zayn’s face as he looks up at Liam from the floor. Liam focuses on the flutter of Zayn’s eyelashes as he unbuckles his trousers and pulls them down to his ankles along with his pants, ignoring the stack of boxes in the middle of the living room and the duffle bag by the front door.

He swallows past the lump in his throat and closes his eyes, squeezing back the wetness budding as Zayn takes him in. His mouth is hot and wet and finally Liam’s mind goes blank and he’s choking on his words for entirely different reasons. Zayn moans around him, the vibrations on his dick making his head drop back against the wall.

Liam knows he’s messing up Zayn’s quiff as he sinks his fingers into his hair, pulling slightly when Zayn does that one thing with his tongue that makes his eyes roll back into his head, but he can’t bring himself to care. He knows he’s babbling, Zayn’s name somewhere amongst the incoherent mess of words tumbling from his lips as he scrunches his eyes shut.

“Zayn, I’m gonna -- ” He cuts himself off with a moan when Zayn’s brings his hand up to cup his balls, tugging gently and sucking harder until Liam is crying out and fisting Zayn’s hair. He comes hard enough to burst stars behind his eyes as Zayn swallows it down, eyes sparkling up at him when Liam finally blinks his eyes open, a hint of a smirk on the boy’s shiny lips.

Liam pulls him up and crashes his mouth to Zayn’s, ignoring the glimpse of boxes in the background before he flutters his eyes shut and sinks into the kiss. Zayn pulls away panting, forehead on Liam’s as he scrambles to get both of them naked.

“Why don’t we do this on the bed this time?” Liam teases, eyes scrunching into half-moons as Zayn giggles into his skin. He’s really going to miss this boy.

“Yeah, good idea.”

When Zayn falls back against the sheets with a smirk, he crooks a finger to call Liam over as if he wasn’t going to fall between those open thighs anyways. As if he wouldn’t want to kiss his way down Zayn’s torso, lips brushing over thin hairs and smooth tattoos. He can feel the heat and hardness of Zayn pressing against his torso the farther down he gets but doesn’t let his lips touch him. Instead, he rummages in the side table for the lube and condoms, slicking his fingers up before gently circling Zayn’s hole with his thumb, only nudging forward after he looks up at Zayn for the okay.

By the time he’s three fingers deep, curled against Zayn’s prostate, the boy beneath him sweaty and panting into the dimly lit bedroom, Liam’s forgotten all about tomorrow. There’s sweat on his brow and Zayn’s fingers are digging into the sheets, his back curved taut like a bow as he begs for more. He sighs when Liam finally pushes into him, slowly with his body curved over Zayn as he rocks his hips forward.

Once he’s fully inside, Liam leans down to kiss Zayn, their lips barely grazing as Zayn tries to adjust, panting against Liam’s open mouth. It’s too much and not enough. This feeling of finally _getting it_ and losing it all at once - _will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?_ \- makes Liam wants to cry. Liam can’t take it so he slides out and pushes back in, slowly and tortuously, trying to keep the overwhelming emotions at bay.

It’s like Zayn can tell he’s on the verge of breaking because he leans up and presses his lips to the soft plane of Liam’s cheekbones, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry you met me.”

And when they come, it’s almost simultaneous as the sensations take over. He thrusts into Zayn harder as his orgasm nears, biting along Zayn’s shoulder in attempt to stifle the loud moans in his throat. Zayn pulls him up to kiss him, tongue thrusting into his mouth as he grabs Liam’s hand and wraps it around his dick in a silent question. There’s a quietness in the way Zayn comes, his eyelashes fluttering, his body seizing up as he spurts out against his stomach and Liam’s hand, that’s transfixing. It doesn’t take long for Liam to follow, hips snapping a couple of times until Zayn is writhing on the bed from the over-stimulation and crying out Liam’s name, begging him to come.

And then it’s over. They clean up, shy smiles on their face almost identical to that of the first night they shared together, the flannel rubbing against overheated skin. Zayn doesn’t ask him to leave and Liam’s not sure he ever wants to leave, watching the boy pull up the sheets and duvet until they’re wrapped in a cotton cocoon. They’re laying on their sides looking at each other, sated and sleepy but not wanting to close their eyes and end the night just yet.

“Tell me something,” Liam says almost pleadingly, breaking the tentative silence around them. “There’s so much I don’t know and I just -- tell me something.”

Zayn’s looking at him with wide eyes, a sadness around the edges as he leans forward and kisses Liam gently. “Me and me mates go around tagging buildings sometimes, just for a laugh.”

“What do you spray?” Liam asks, a small smile on his face as he wraps his hand in Zayn’s and settles back into the pillows.

“Random shit, mostly. I did this sick alien thing one time.”

“That’s ace.”

“Your turn, tell me something I don’t know.”

Liam wants to say there’s a lot of things Zayn doesn’t know about him. But that thought reminds of things he’s trying to push away for the moment, so he goes with something easier. “My first girlfriend dumped me ‘cause I was too boring.”

“Ouch.” Zayn softly giggles into the pillow, his finger stroking Liam’s in comfort as he does. “I have three sisters, all a pain in the arse, and I was terrified I was gonna lose them when I came out.”

“I have a weird fear of spoons.”

Zayn bites down on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh even though Liam knows he’s dying to. His cheeks start to turn a bit pink and he finally lets it out, little bouts of laughter as he leans into Liam as if to apologize for laughing. Liam pouts but can’t resist Zayn’s happy giggles or the way his face scrunches up as he laughs, eyes almost closed shut as he rocks back. He finally stops with a deep breath and a final couple of giggles before Liam pushes his chest with a ‘stop laughing at me, you dick’.

“Your turn,” Liam mumbles once they settled back into the quiet, Zayn’s feet tucked under his for warmth. He stares at Liam for a moment, fingers playing along his palm and Liam wonders, not for the first time, what Zayn is thinking.

“I never liked the idea of a boyfriend until I met you.”

Liam feels like he's taken a blow to the solar plexus, like the air in the room has disappeared and all that’s left is the feeling of _nothing lasts forever but this is gonna take me down_. He doesn’t know what to say so he just kisses Zayn until he stops shaking, until the image of boxes and dufflebags and _new york city_ are gone from his mind. Zayn kisses back just as earnestly, the ‘i’m sorry’ tumbling from his lips again and again until Liam’s lips and hands silence him for awhile.

And later that night, when the lights in Zayn’s flat are all turned off and his iPod is shuffling through sleepy tunes, Liam lays his head on Zayn’s chest with the hope that morning won’t come too soon. The tattoos underneath the pads of his fingertips are filled with stories he hasn’t heard and the questions are on the tip of his tongue but Zayn looks down at him with a sleepy smile and they catch in his throat.

He only has this beautiful boy for a few hours more - _won't you stay with me? 'cause you're all I need, this ain't love, it's clear to see but darling, stay with me_ \- and he’s not sure what he wants to do with them. He lurches up, lips pressing softly against Zayn’s as he presses his palm harder against his chest. Fingers trail over the intricate wings on his clavicle and down to his hip where his thumb digs into the block heart he loves sinking his teeth into.

“What’s this about?” Liam asks without thinking, lips brushing against Zayn’s still, unable to tear himself away completely.

“Dunno, really,” Zayn mumbles before he bites down gently on Liam’s bottom lip. Liam retaliates by pressing his fingers into the tattoo harder, grazing his nose along the slope of Zayn’s cheek and gasping at the brush of smooth skin instead of stubble. So many new things to discover about this boy, and time is running out.

“I guess I just liked it, I suppose.” He finishes, dragging his hands up Liam’s back and into his hair to bring him in for a rougher kiss.

Liam groans against his mouth, instinct bringing his hips down against Zayn’s. Their clothes are still scattered about the room so it’s skin against skin as Liam gets hard, rubbing against Zayn until he is too. He pants into Zayn’s mouth and pushes against his chest to hover over the dark-haired boy, his gaze flicking over his face.

“I think…” Liam starts, leaning down to brush his lips over Zayn’s briefly. “I think you should fuck me this time.”

So, he does. Zayn slicks up his fingers and has Liam kneel over him so he can finger him open. He’s too slow for Liam’s liking but it’s been a while and Zayn probably knows that, fingers searching for that one spot as he stretches him open. Liam’s thighs are aching from staying upright and he wants to complain but then those long, beautiful fingers brush against his prostate and he’s seeing stars.

“You look so fucking good like this Liam, wish I could watch you ride me all day.” His eyes are on Liam, as if in wonder, and Liam almost wants to look away but can’t stand to when he’s saying things like that. Zayn keeps talking, thrusting up into Liam as if they have all the time in the world. Saying things that make Liam want to cry; words of filth and forever and a tomorrow they'll never have.

Liam groans, pushing Zayn back into the mattress, his palms pressing into Zayn’s torso to rock himself back against Zayn’s dick. He doesn’t care how slow they’re moving or how sore he’s going to be tomorrow because he wants to live in this moment, wants to take all that he can because there’s an expiration date on them and it’s rapidly approaching. 

“If I had the chance, I’d draw you forever. Use that body paint to stroke colours on your skin as I fuck you.” Zayn says, leaning up again to fold their bodies together and making Liam pant hotly against his cheek at the sensations the new angle brings, eyes wide in the dim room.

He wants to beg Zayn to stop, wants to tell him to keep going, wants this feeling to last forever. He comes without warning, Zayn’s fingers around him, stroking him to orgasm as he clenches down around Zayn. There’s come covering his navel and some of Zayn’s fingers and without thinking, he brings Zayn’s hand up to his mouth and wraps his lips around one of Zayn’s fingers, licking up his own come and sucking on the digit. 

“Fuck,” Zayn whispers harshly, eyes never leaving Liam’s mouth as he continues to thrust up into him frantically. He dips his head into the crook of Liam’s neck and comes with a whimper against his skin, freezing against Liam. 

He climbs off of Zayn slowly, hand on Zayn’s to grasp the condom as he does while Zayn winces from the sensitivity. On shaky limbs, he leaves the room to grab a wet flannel and mops up the already-drying come on his stomach and the sticky lube on the inside of his thighs and bum. He washes it thoroughly, avoiding looking in the mirror above the sink, and walking slowly back into the room. 

Zayn is sprawled over the sheets looking wrecked, hair sticking up wildly and eyes barely staying open. He doesn’t know what time it is, the clock on the nightstand probably packed in one of the boxes in the living room. With a shake of his head, Liam drops back onto the bed and cuddles into Zayn’s side while sliding the flannel over Zayn’s sticky fingers. 

When he’s done he sees Zayn looking at him with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Before he can ask, Zayn leans up and kisses him softly. What else is there left to be said, really? So, he tosses the flannel on the floor and drags the covers back over them and lays down next to Zayn. 

As Zayn shuffles closer and rests his head on Liam’s chest, he can’t help the twist of his stomach - _place your head on my beating heart, i'm thinking out loud, that maybe we found love right where we are_ \- as he pulls Zayn in and kisses the top of his head. 

He doesn’t cry, neither does Zayn, but they do hold each other uncomfortably tight for the next few moments until exhaustion takes them and they drop off to sleep. The last thought Liam remembers is that this was the last time he’d ever have this boy in his arms like this, wholly and completely his.

 

 

 

 

**Monday**

 

A chill sinks down Liam’s spine as the cool wind whips through the train platform, the space fairly empty at this early hour. Zayn isn’t looking at him, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and his gaze locked on the pavement. Liam’s not sure what to do, not sure what to say to make it all better because nothing will be good enough. He stands across from him, helpless and sad, willing the train to be a little bit late so he can have a few more minutes with Zayn. 

Zayn's bags are at his feet and his ticket tucked into his jacket pocket. Liam doesn't know what to say, neither does Zayn. He wishes him good luck, his email and Skype already typed into Zayn's phone just in case before Zayn is kissing him desperately. 

Liam kisses him back, mostly because he doesn’t know how not to, even though Zayn’s lips are chapped from his teeth gnawing at them and Liam’s mouth is cold from the wind. He wraps his arms around him, feeling Zayn’s fingers digging into the flesh of his waist as if trying to anchor himself, and he knows he has to let go. 

He leaves a peck on Zayn’s lips before moving back slightly, Zayn’s thumb still rubbing against his ribs. There’s a wetness to Zayn’s eyes that surprises him and Liam slowly dips his head to press his forehead against his with a small smile. It’s quiet on the platform now, not a soul in sight and he can just hear Zayn when he speaks. 

"This isn't how I expected it to go, you know?" His voice is soft and Zayn finally looks him in the eye, his sharp gaze an echo of _this ain't love, it's clear to see but darling, stay with me._  

"I know." 

"I wasn't expecting you."

Liam smiles sadly, "I know. I wasn't expecting you either."

And then the train arrives and Zayn picks up his bags. Liam lurches forward and kisses him fiercely, not knowing how else to say how he feels when I love you is too much and please stay is out of the question. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to whine about how it’s _just not fair._ And then they separate, lips swollen and spit-slick, and Zayn steps back with a clear of his throat, Liam knows that even if it’s not fair he has to let him go. 

With one last look over his shoulder, Zayn steps onto the train just as the doors are closing and Liam has to swipe a hand over his eyes as the train - and the beautiful boy with it - slowly move out of view. 

 

 

 


	2. Epilogue: One Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He still misses Zayn some days, like when he sees a programme on the telly about New York City or passes a bloke with a high quiff and a cheeky grin. He still gets those flashes of memory in the tiny sliver of time before he falls asleep, a glimpse of dark eyes and soft kisses. But he’s done with it now, moved on with his life as best he can given the situation. Zayn hasn’t contacted him in months.
> 
> It was only one weekend after all.

**One Year Later**

 

“Are you coming or not, mate?” Louis yells from the front room, voice getting higher in pitch the more irritated he gets and waiting for Liam to _just get changed_ is apparently too much of a burden.

He’s rustling through his drawers for a shirt that doesn’t smell like the fire station or Louis’ cologne - he really needs to stop stealing Liam’s clothes - and finally finds one tucked into the shelves of his wardrobe. The black henley fits a little more snugly these days since he’s started training at House 51 in order to pass the physicality test every six months but he’s never been happier. 

He’s working his dream job, he’s got great mates, lives in a beautiful city - what more could anyone ask for?

“I’m gonna fuckin’ break the door down, Payno,” Louis threatens, banging on his bedroom door even though it’s unlocked and Louis rarely knocks anyways. “You know how pouty Haz gets if we’re late, he does that thing with his face and then refuses to shag me so if you could - ”

Liam swings the door open, glaring at Louis who beams up at him. He tries to ruffle Liam’s hair - the carefully coiffed hair he _just_ managed to fix - but Liam stops him just in time, inciting a pout and a loud snipe from his best friend.

“You’re such a child sometimes.” He grins, releasing him and heading down the hallway.

“Thank you.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

“Sure it was!” Louis squawks, nudging Liam as he comes to his side. Liam shoves his wallet in his back pocket and slips his watch over his wrist (an old thing his dad gave him that once belonged to his grandfather that barely works but Liam can’t seem to part with) before looking over at Louis.

“You planning on pullin’ tonight?” Louis asks, slipping on his dark blue Vans and checking his hair in the hallway mirror, glancing over at Liam with a sharpness to his gaze and a tightness around his mouth. 

“No, I - ” Liam cuts himself off. They don’t really talk about it, really...about _him_. Only when Liam is bladdered and blubbering, when his bed is too cold and he’s feeling particularly lonely. “I can’t do that there.” 

Louis' face smooths out and he nods like he understands and Liam guesses he does since he was there after Zayn left. There for the nights Liam holed up in his room and studied non-stop, figuring if he couldn’t have another chance with Zayn, he’d have his perfect job and he’d be _amazing_ at it. He passed his exam with flying colours and Louis and the gang took him for a round in celebration, just happy to see him doing anything that wasn’t studying. 

But once he had no distractions and his placement at the fire station wasn’t due to start for another two weeks - something about the paperwork or whatever - Liam found himself thinking non-stop about Zayn. The way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way his eyes glazed over when Liam bit down on his bottom lip. The little things he had learned over that amazing weekend. And then he broke. 

Louis found him on the floor of his room, back against the side of the bed surrounded by empty cans of lager. There was a look of sorrow in his eyes as he stood above him and Liam couldn’t hold it in any longer. He babbled for hours, soft streaks of tears running down his cheeks as Louis fell to his knees beside him and hugged him close. He remembers choking on the memory of that morning after, face smashed into the crook of Louis’ neck.

He’d only been gone for a week.

After that, Liam picked himself up and resolved to be stronger. He went to his new job, he went out with his mates, and he spoke to Zayn in the tiny moments in between. They tried, they truly truly tried to keep it going. For the first couple of months, there were skype dates and Whatsapp conversations of random events and i-miss-yous. Anything to keep the fire going. And it worked too! Liam learned about Zayn's little quirks and swooned over the slope of his cheekbones via the laptop screen, remembering the softness of his skin, and before he knew it he was falling. 

But life got in the way and the distance was too much - _and you were just gone and gone, gone and gone_ \- and eventually Liam stopped logging into skype and Zayn stopped texting him pictures of his art coursework and they eventually fell out. Eventually, that fire burnt out.

Liam’s ace now, though. Time has passed and he’s done his crying over it, the sporadic nights of tears sprung from loneliness or seeing Harry laughing at Louis’ stupid and not very funny jokes. He’s been on dates since then but something always went wrong or Liam couldn’t find it in himself to care for longer than that first date - _struggled through the night with someone new_. Mostly, he did it to stave off the panic in his chest whenever his phone had a notification or to get Louis off his back when he complained about how much time he’s spending alone in his room when he’s not at work. 

He still misses Zayn some days, like when he sees a programme on the telly about New York City or passes a bloke with a high quiff and a cheeky grin. He still gets those flashes of memory in the tiny sliver of time before he falls asleep, a glimpse of dark eyes and soft kisses. But he’s done with it now, moved on with his life as best he can given the situation. Zayn hasn’t contacted him in months.

It was only one weekend after all.

“You ready to go, then?” Louis asks, breaking through his thoughts with a pat on the shoulder.

Liam nods, smiling even though it might not reach his eyes and Louis can see. He swings an arm around Louis’ shoulders and drags him down the small hallway and out the front door. Louis is grinning from ear to ear, pointy teeth trying to bite it down and Liam can’t help but smile properly as he looks at his best mate. They’d spent the last week in a state of anxiety as Louis paced the flat waiting for a call back for an audition and now they can finally breathe again.

Apparently, after one of Louis’ performances in _Peter Pan_ \- no surprises on which role Louis got - a man came up to him and told Louis he was on the casting panel for a new tv drama on E4. He told Louis about the audition and after a few agonizing weeks of auditions and callbacks, his best mate finally got the call. Niall almost broke the coffee table after tackling Louis in excitement before he and Liam had to vacate the premises once Harry smashed his mouth on Louis’.

It’s been a non-stop celebration since and tonight they’re going to proper celebrate since Liam isn’t on call and the guys are performing at The Rose and King. Just like old times.

“You think our Niall’s ever going to tell Josh he wants to have his half-Irish babies?”

Liam laughs, the cool air brushing along his heated skin as they make their way down the road. He listens as Louis goes on about the shirt Harry wanted to wear tonight - some leopard print monstrosity, Louis said - and laughs so hard he almost falls into a puddle before Louis drags them in through the pub doors.

Before he knows it, there’s a pint in his hands and a pair of mischievous blue eyes sparkling in front of him. On three, they down it back and Liam wins because Louis gets distracted, spilling half the drink down his front as his boyfriend walks on stage in a leopard print button up with half the buttons undone.

Liam wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and slides the empty glass on the table as he chuckles at his best mate.

“That little minx, I’m gonna - ”

“Please, do not finish that sentence.” Liam shouts, eyes wide before wrinkling his nose in disgust. Louis smirks at him before swallowing down the rest of his drink.

“Your round, mate.” He says instead, sliding his glass next to Liam’s before turning towards the stage.

With a groan, Liam steps out of the booth they’ve commandeered and makes his way over to the bar. He knows these songs like the back of his hand and mumbles along to the words before telling the bloke behind the bar what he wants. A wide, crinkly eyed smile spreads on his face when he’s handed a pint of lager like before and a pink daiquiri with a yellow umbrella topped on it.

He steadily holds the drinks in his hands as he shoulders his way through the ever-growing crowd. Harry is sauntering up to the front of the stage and slicking back his long hair - Louis was _thrilled_ when he didn’t cut it over the summer - while mouthing along to Niall’s part in the song. Liam’s not really paying attention to where he’s going as he laughs at Harry almost slipping on stage, when he bumps into someone and nearly spills half the glass of lager on his shoes.

“Shit, mate, I am so sor--”

He looks down at his slightly sticky boots before glancing at the stranger, stopping mid-sentence. Liam’s eyes widen and his heart is thumping against his ribcage in absolute terror as he sees Zayn standing in front of him. The boy doesn’t move at first and Liam thinks this must be a figment of his slightly pissed brain but then Zayn smiles, disarming as usual, and even Liam’s wild imagination couldn’t make this up.

“Are one of those for me?” He says, pointing at the glasses in Liam’s hands. He’s forgotten all about them to be honest, probably would’ve dropped them if not for the way he’s gripping them tightly so he won’t faint.

Zayn looks good, is the thing. He still dresses the same - dark, skinny jeans and a grey scoop-neck tee with his combat boots - but his hair is longer, just reaching passed his ears now, and the beard is gone. There’s something about the way he looks at Liam that’s different too, something Liam can’t put a finger on. The twist of his lips pulls a knot in Liam’s stomach and he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

“No.” He blurts out, swallowing thickly as he glances over Zayn’s head to where Louis is sitting and watching the stage. He winces before explaining,”It’s for Lou.”

Zayn doesn’t seem offended by his outburst, smiling as he asks, “I guess a lot has changed since I left if Tommo is drinking fruity, pink drinks.”

Liam wants to run away into a dark corner when Zayn uses Louis’ nickname - the one he learned on their second day together - so effortlessly. As if he hasn’t been gone a year. As if they knew each other enough to make jokes like this. As if Liam didn’t spend months trying to forget the way his voice sounded as he stitched himself up again. As if it will coat over the awkwardness of seeing each other again.

“You look good,” Zayn says, trying to meet Liam’s eyes even though he’s trying to avoid it. Zayn clears his throat, “Happy, I mean. Like, you look - ”

He stops and runs a hand through his hair, the strands falling back over his eyes. Liam’s about to make an excuse so that he can have a couple of minutes by himself, to panic over the fact that Zayn is _here_ but Harry stops singing and Josh hits the last beat and the two of them are left staring at each other with nothing to say and nothing to distract them.

“Liam, mate, what’s keeping ya?” Louis says, coming up to them and slinging an arm over his shoulders with a smile, oblivious to the boy in front of him. “That pink monstrosity for me then, ya wanker?”

Liam can’t really speak, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he stares wide-eyed at Zayn. Neither of them have spoken since Louis walked over and Zayn is just smiling softly at him as he struggles for words that can take away the awkwardness. It’s a lost cause when Louis lets out a curse as he finally notices Zayn, the straw of his drink hanging on his dropped bottom lip.

Liam isn’t sure what kind of reaction he was anticipating but when Louis smacks Liam on the arm and squawks, “Why didn’t you tell me he was back?”

“I - I - ” Liam stutters, blinking rapidly and looking over at Zayn once before staring at Louis again. He shrugs helplessly before mumbling out, “I didn’t know until right now.”

Louis looks shocked and then very quickly concerned, taking the beer from Liam’s hands and leaning in close so only he can hear him. He asks Liam if he’s alright, staying here with Zayn, if he wants Louis to run interference or make an excuse to rush them backstage so Liam doesn’t have to face up to the boy who left all those months ago.

“It’s alright, Lou. I’ll be fine.” Liam murmurs, loud enough for Louis to hear but not for Zayn since he’s raising his eyebrows at them.

“Everything alright, lads?” Zayn asks, hands slipping into his pockets as he rocks back and forth of his feet.

“Yeah. Yes.” Louis says, smiling over at him. “I was just telling Payno here that I was gonna head backstage, sneak in a cheeky snog before the second half.”

Zayn laughs and Liam’s chest hurts; he remembers that laugh and all the glorious moments when he had caused it to happen. He feels like he should be smiling with them but he can’t seem to help himself, gnawing on his bottom lip and periodically staring at his shoes. Louis salutes them goodbye, some of Liam’s lager splashing on his Vans as he walks away, bumping into a couple of people.

Liam looks from where Louis has disappeared to and sighs, knowing he has to do this on his own. He glances over at Zayn and nods to the corner table where the chairs are missing and no one is around. The perfect spot for Liam to make a fool of himself where no one can see.

“So…” Zayn says, that smile still on his lips as he leans against the beer-sticky table.

“So…” Liam echoes, not sure what to do with his hands now that he’s not holding any drinks and stuffing them in his pockets as well. “How long have you been back?”

“A couple of weeks.”

Oh. Right. That’s okay, Liam can deal with that, he can cope with the fact that Zayn’s been back for a while now and hasn’t sent him a text or an email or anything. And it hits him then, with his shoes sticking to fallen drinks on the floor and a generic pop playlist playing overhead, that maybe Zayn didn’t contact him because he didn’t want to see or hear from him. It was only a weekend after all, he reminds himself.

“Did you, like, lose my number?” He couldn’t help but ask, his mouth dry and he wishes Louis hadn’t taken his drink as well.

“I just wasn’t, like, sure you wanted to see me?” Zayn is looking down at the floor now, hair falling into his eyes, and Liam can’t believe he’s just heard those words come out of his mouth.

Liam plays over that weekend in his mind over and over, the morning on the train platform - _the look on your face when I let you go_ \- and he wonders when he ever gave Zayn that impression. He’s been gone for this boy since the morning after they met, wrapped in his sheets and blushing at Zayn’s words. Liam clears his throat, a lump lodging itself there as he wonders how long Zayn’s been thinking this.

They talk around it for a bit, letting the question lie between them for a few moments longer, talking about absolutely anything. Liam asks about the gallery and watches Zayn's eyes light up as he talks about his art before leaning a bit closer and asking Liam about how the lads at the station were treating him - the last he had heard from Liam was during his initiation, _not_ a fun time for him. Before they know it, the small talk is burnt out and they're back where they're started, awkward and unsure as Liam asks once more.

“So what’re you doing here, then?” He says, his voice almost a whisper and he knows he sounds a bit needy but it makes Zayn look at him, lips quirking up a bit.

“Niall set my facebook up with alerts about the band, so I knew you’d be here.”

“You came here just to see me?” Liam furrows his brow, confused and unsure and wanting to run away to the toilets for a bit of a cry not even thinking about how Niall’s been in touch with Zayn.

Zayn bites his lip, knowing he’s given himself away. Liam’s never been more high-strung in his life, not even before his fire fighter’s exam. He watches as Zayn takes a little step forward, his fringe falling into his eyes again before he brushes them back softly.

“Of course I’d wanna see you.” He murmurs. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that day in the club.”

“But the emails and the - you stopped replying..." Liam sputters out, hands gesturing wildly in a way he knows he picked up from Harry. He just doesn’t _understand._ All those months of nothing, of going to sleep and checking his phone for notifications that won’t come, of wondering if it was something he did or if he had built it all up in his head. The thoughts whirl around in his brain and he just stares at Zayn who reaches out and wraps his long fingers around Liam’s wrists to still his hands.

“I know. I’m sorry for that and I understand why you stopped sending messages too.” Zayn speaks slowly, leaning in so close that Liam can smell the strong aftershave that’s on his skin. "But I really missed you, Liam."

Liam doesn’t really know what to say - _you can hear it in the silence_ \- and he doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow when he’s past the shock of seeing Zayn again but what he does know is that he really really missed him. Months of wanting him to just _come back, be here_ so he can hold him close and kiss those almost familiar lips. It’s all he can think about, really, as Zayn stands in front of him nervous and unsure with his teeth digging into that plush bottom lip.

Zayn lets out a shocked noise when Liam presses his mouth against his, lips brushing over Zayn’s in desperation and moaning lightly when Zayn presses closer and kisses him back just as fiercely. He forgets where they are, forgets that they should probably talk about this before jumping into bed again but he really can’t help it when Zayn is looking at him like that and just _there._ Zayn steps closer, the toes of his boots nudging Liam’s, and wraps his arms around Liam’s waist, pulling him in and licking his way into Liam’s mouth.

Without a second thought, he slides his fingers between Zayn’s and squeezes tight - _these hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me_ \- before stepping back a little to take a breath. Zayn is looking at him with dark eyes, his thumb rubbing over Liam’s hand in a soothing rhythm and calming him down. He leans in once more for a soft peck before stepping back again to look in Zayn’s eyes.

“Do you wanna come back to mine?” He mumbles, though the flush to Zayn’s cheeks tells him he’s been heard clearly. He bites down on his lip before clarifying, “We don’t have to like _do anything_ , yeah? Just talk and...stuff.”

Zayn smirks and Liam’s stomach twists a little because he looks like the Zayn he remembers from that weekend -- cheeky and so sure of himself. He looks at Liam and tugs on his hand, head tilting back slightly towards the door. There's a charge between them that lights up Liam's blood, and makes his palms all sweaty. A voice at the back of his mind wonders if Zayn will notice and want to pull away his hand but he shakes that thought away and moves a little bit closer.

This is mad, to be fair. To bring this boy home after not seeing him for a year and what? Talk? Fuck? Liam has no idea where this is headed but he crosses Zayn and pulls on his hand, walking toward the entrance. It’s almost reminiscent to that night one year ago, when Zayn whispered against his skin to take him to bed - _i’ll follow you, follow you home_ \- and Liam couldn’t help but listen.

The night air is cool and sobering, jolting Liam back into his over-thinking state and he wonders how he's managed to get this far without having a proper meltdown over the fact that Zayn is back. And not just back in the country but back in Liam's life.

It wasn't chance that brought them together again - unless you count Niall's luck of the Irish - but the fact that Zayn sought him out. It makes Liam smile, really, knowing he was missed just as much. It also makes Liam wonder what will happen past this night.

A few blocks later, when the sticky warmth of the pub has left their bones and the awkwardness has settled in, Liam looks over at Zayn to find him already staring. Zayn smirks before ducking his head, fingers tightening around Liam’s. Liam wants to ask about New York, ask about the art course and what he got up to but he knows now isn’t the time. He needs to know why Zayn came looking for him in that dingy pub. He needs to know if the cloud of wonder from that weekend is still over them and if when he wakes up tomorrow, is Zayn still going to be there?

“Is this still okay?” Liam asks, lifting their joined hands and biting down on his bottom lip. Zayn whips his head up to look at Liam, eyes soft.

“Of course it is.” He murmurs. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Liam doesn’t answer but digs his teeth into his lip until it hurts. They don’t say anything else the rest of the walk home, shoulders brushing occasionally but neither of them moving any closer. The night is fairly quiet for a Friday and Liam assumes everyone is out in the pubs or clubs by now, revelling in the echo that his shoes make against the pavement as he tries not to think about how sweaty his hand feels in Zayn’s. 

At his, Liam finally lets the nerves wash over him as the front door clicks shut behind him. Zayn moves further into the flat and Liam quickly follows behind him. To be fair, he’s not tidied up in ages and Louis leaves his shit everywhere and he’s got Zayn in his bloody flat. The dark-haired boy shoulders off his coat and Liam reaches out and takes it from him without a word.

It shouldn’t be this easy, Liam thinks, as he hangs up Zayn’s coat. There should be that awkwardness that strangled them when they were talking in the bar and yet the air seemed clearer in Liam's flat. Their kiss took away the uncertainty that clouded Liam's judgement and he couldn't remember why he had felt so nervous.

"Liam."

He looks over at Zayn, who's standing in the middle of the living room with his hands by his side and a hopeful look on his face.

"Liam, c'mere." He murmurs, tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip and hypnotizing Liam to step closer.

Zayn raises himself on his toes, even though they're of similar height, and wraps his arms around Liam's neck to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Liam kisses back immediately, losing himself in the heat of Zayn's mouth and the softness of his lips. With all his strength he pulls back, licking at his lips and tasting Zayn there.

"Wait, wait, we don't have to - this isn't why I asked you back you know that don't you?" Liam implores, eyes wide.

Zayn huffs out a laugh and pecks Liam on the lips before whispering, "I know," and pressing his whole body against Liam's, his fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

“I got a tattoo for you.” Zayn mumbles against his lips, breath tickling Liam’s skin. It takes a moment for his words to register but when they do, Liam jerks back and stares at Zayn in wonder. _A tattoo._

“What?”

Zayn’s looks a little bashful, his eyelashes fanning over his cheeks as he looks down and then back up at Liam. One of his hands leaves Liam’s waist and pulls the neck of his shirt down to reveal the scribbled script of the word ‘Friday?’ along his collarbone. Liam looks down at the black ink, his hand coming up so he can brush his fingers along Zayn’s skin.

He knows his mouth is hanging open and he hasn’t said anything - _you can hear it in the silence, silence_ \- as he’s staring widely at the tattoo and swiping his thumb over it. It’s so _permanent_ , is the thing. There’s a permanent mark on Zayn’s skin that reminds him solely of Liam and the night they met. He can’t really believe it.

“Say something.” Zayn says in a panic. “Did I freak you out? I freaked you out, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I have this thing where I get a tattoo whenever something important happens to me and that night, that weekend felt kinda important to me but now you’re freaking out and not saying anything and -- ”

Liam crushes his mouth to Zayn’s and cuts him off, knowing anything he says will be completely inadequate compared to the things Zayn is spouting out. He knows he’s not good with words. He knows that he’s better at showing how he feels than saying it and that’s why it all went to shit months ago, because he didn’t just _tell_ Zayn that he was in love with him. Holy shit. He’s in love with Zayn.

“I think I’m in love with you,” He blurts out, tearing his mouth away from Zayn’s and seeing the other boy panting, lips swollen and jaw dropped. “I - I’m in love with you.”

Zayn breaks out into a grin, eyes forming half moon crescents and tongue pressing against the back of his teeth. He leans his forehead against Liam’s and brings his hands up to cup Liam’s face, thumbs pressing against the stubble laying there. There’s a shine to his eyes that Liam remembers fondly and hopes to find familiar months from now, and he pulls Zayn in close. Liam kisses Zayn deeply, sliding his tongue along Zayn’s and gripping the boy tight because he never wants to let go.

“For the record,” Zayn says, pulling back a fraction in order to look into Liam’s eyes. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

They kiss once more and Zayn slides his mouth along Liam’s skin as he paws at his clothes, pressing in as close as possible in a public space. Liam lets out an incredulous laugh, confused as to how he got so lucky and dips his head, pulling down the fabric of Zayn’s shirt to kiss along the tattoo.

He doesn’t care that he’s just missed the rest of the lads’ set or that Louis’ gonna give him a right earful tomorrow morning about it. He’s got a lot of time to make up for. He’s not worried though.

The weekend’s only just begun after all.

 

 

_This love is good, this love is bad_   
_This love is alive back from the dead_   
_These hands had to let it go free_   
_And this love came back to me._

 

xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I had this scene planned out when I started writing the fic and decided to wait a bit until posting it to see people's reactions, haha! Let me know what you think in the comments or on tumblr, my url is the same as my ao3.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and kudos are lovely but not necessary. And do come say hello on tumblr: vanessamary!! Thanks so much for reading!


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